Anyone Who Messes With My Granddaughter Must Pay

After building my fortune from nothing over the course of decades, I had always known the value of keeping a low profile.

I owned dozens of companies, but I never showed my face in public. When I went grocery shopping, I rode an old electric scooter. The coats I wore were always bought on sale.

None of my neighbors knew who I really was, which spared me a lot of unnecessary favors and fake friendships.

Then, one afternoon, while I was at home carving a wooden toy for my granddaughter, I received a call from her kindergarten.

“Hello? Are you Nina Spencer’s grandfather? Your granddaughter bullied another child at school. The situation is very serious. You need to come over immediately and deal with it!”

The voice on the other end sounded cold and impatient, like she was just going through the motions.

My heart sank.

I knew Nina better than anyone. She was gentle and kind. Ever since she was little, she wouldn’t even step on an ant if she could help it.

How could she possibly hit someone?

“I’ll be right there.”

After hanging up, I didn’t even have time to change my clothes. I rushed out and rode my electric scooter straight to the kindergarten.

My son spent most of the year overseas working on projects, and my daughter-in-law had gone with him. Before they left, they asked only one thing of me.

Protect Nina.

That was why I had personally chosen the best kindergarten in the city for her. The tuition alone was two hundred and thirty thousand a year.

I never expected something like this to happen.

When I arrived, someone led me to the office.

The moment I pushed the door open, my chest tightened.

Nina was curled up on a small stool in the corner. The left side of her face was badly swollen, there was a cut at the corner of her mouth, and her arms were covered in bruises and red marks.

The second she saw me, her mouth puckered as if she was about to cry.

But one glare from the teacher scared the tears right back.

Anger surged through me.

I rushed over and checked her injuries.

“Don’t cry, Nina. Grandpa’s here.”

As I spoke, I looked her over carefully. The injuries on her body were clearly from being beaten. This was far beyond a normal scuffle between children.

Just then, the teacher beside me spoke.

“You’re Nina’s grandfather, right? I’m Ms. Zeller, her teacher.”

She looked me up and down with obvious contempt. When her gaze dropped to my worn black slip-ons, her lip curled even more.

“I suggest you stop feeling sorry for her and take a look at the child she bullied first.”

I turned my head and saw a chubby little boy sitting on the sofa nearby, legs crossed, making faces at me.

He was clean from head to toe. Forget injuries. Not even a strand of his hair was out of place.

“Ms. Zeller, explain this to me clearly. Who bullied whom?”

My expression darkened.

Nina was covered in injuries, while that little boy didn’t have a scratch on him.

And they were telling me my granddaughter was the bully?